Afterlife Academy (3 page)

“Be with you in a minute!” a
woman calls from behind the door.

“Great,” I mutter.

“Shut up, Riley,” Anthony snaps.
“Be nice for a change.”

“I am nice. I am—”

The principal’s door opens and a
woman steps out. She is categorically not Mr Richmond. Nor is she the deputy
head, Mr Goldwyn, who would have taken over if something had happened to Mr
Richmond.

There is something about her
that looks familiar, though.

“Ah, welcome,” she says to us.
“Come in, please. It’s not often we get arrivals in pairs.”

She steps aside and holds the
door open for us. Anthony strides in while I straggle behind him.

“So, you two would be Anthony
Marsden and Riley Richardson, correct?”

Anthony nods. I take a seat next
to him as she sits on the opposite side of the desk.

“I’m Eliza Carbonell, the
headmistress here.”

I look around the room as she
introduces herself. It’s the same room, but it’s not the same as it is when Mr
Richmond is here. There are typically a lot of papers piled up or strewn around
the room. There are always approximately five used coffee mugs in varying
states of disgustingness scattered across the desk.

This is different. There are
huge filing cabinets lining every wall. There is nothing on the floor but
carpet. The desk is spotless. No coffee mugs. No random papers. Just a phone, a
computer, and an open file in front of her. Probably ours, I think.

I look at her as she flicks
through said file. She looks familiar and at the same time like something out
of an old black-and-white movie. Her hair is side parted and pulled back into a
bun. Her clothes look like they belong on an old woman rather than the
thirty-something she must be. And she is as grey as everything else around
here. There is no colour anywhere in the office. The burgundy curtains that
have always been here are grey. The filing cabinets are grey. The carpet is
grey.

“Where’s Mr Richmond?” I ask
boldly.

“Mr Richmond doesn’t belong
here, Riley.”

“So… he was fired?”

“Perhaps we should talk about
some other things first.” She fixes me with a grey-eyed stare. “Just let me
read through your details. I’m sorry I wasn’t better prepared. We didn’t know
you were coming.”

And that’s when I know why she
looks familiar. I know why she looks like something out of a black-and-white
photograph. I know where I’ve seen her before.

I’ve walked past her every
single day on the way to assembly in the main hall.

On a remembrance plaque.

There are three of them just
inside the doors of the main hall. Two are former students who died. One is a
former headmistress who died saving a boy from a fire.

Eliza Carbonell. Died in 1949.

That thought alone makes me jump
out of my chair.

“Riley,” she says slowly.

But I’m backing away towards the
door.

“This can’t be happening,” I
stammer. “I recognise you. There’s a plaque in the hall for you. You’re…” I
can’t even say it. It’s too weird.

“Oh my god, you’re right,”
Anthony says. “You’re that headmistress who saved a kid when the building burnt
down. Wow, this is so cool. Does this mean we’ve gone back in time? Have we
entered a wormhole or something?”

Trust him to think going back in
time would be cool.

“You haven’t gone back in time,”
Eliza Carbonell says. “Riley, please sit down and we’ll talk about this like
adults.”

I don’t know what to do. I could
run away. But I don’t know where to or what might be waiting outside to stop
me. And Anthony is right about the main road being different. The roundabout
and railway bridge have disappeared. All the cars and houses have gone. Maybe
we have gone back in time. Maybe we’ve somehow ended up in 1949, before this
woman died. Before everything was developed and modern. There wouldn’t have
been cars and houses in those days.

I perch on the edge of my seat
and wait for her to say something.

“Okay,” she says eventually.
“This is always the hard part. What’s the last thing you two remember?”

“We were in a car accident,”
Anthony says. “Her and her idiot boyfriend were joyriding and they hit me.”

“I remember impact,” I say. “A
huge bang. And blood. There was a lot of blood. His blood though, not mine.”

“Now then, I don’t want you to
freak out and get upset about this, but that car accident was more serious than
you might think. There were two fatalities. I’m afraid they were you two.”

“No,” I say. “No. I don’t know
how Wade has pulled this off, but this is all some kind of really sick joke and
I am not giving him the satisfaction of falling for it.”

“So, where are we?” Anthony
asks, ignoring me.

“Didn’t you hear me?” I yell.
“This is a joke. You’re just making yourself look stupid by buying into it.
Where’s the hidden camera?” I’m on my feet again, looking around the room
frantically. “You’re dumped, Wade. Wherever you are, I know you’re watching
this, and you’re totally dumped.”

“Riley, please sit down.” Eliza
Carbonell interrupts my tirade. “This is not a joke. A lot of people have
difficulty adjusting at first, and I completely understand that, but you do
need to sit down and listen to me.”

“This is ridiculous,” I mutter,
but I reluctantly sit back down anyway.

“Where are we?” Anthony asks
again.

“This place is called Afterlife
Academy,” she says. “It’s a place for teenagers who pass away before they can
finish their education.”

“Are you kidding me?” I ask
incredulously. “We’re in a school for the dead? How come it looks exactly like
our school?”

 “Afterlife Academy was started
up by government officials in 1950,” Eliza continues. “They asked me to oversee
it. As this was the school I worked in when I was alive, they used it as a
blueprint when creating this one. You two are a rare kind indeed. Most
teenagers who arrive here do not come from this school. You’re just lucky
because you happen to have been attending our living counterpart in your lives,
so you’re already familiar with the layout here.”

“So you
are
dead?” Anthony asks like it is nothing strange.

“Indeed I am,” she says with a
sad look in her grey eyes. “In 1949 a fire broke out in this building. Most
people got out unharmed, but just as I was leaving I realised there was a young
first-year boy stuck on the second floor. As headmistress, it was my
responsibility and I rushed back in to save him. Which, I’m glad to say, I did.
But the building collapsed before I could get out myself, and there you have
it. Do they really have a plaque in my memory?”

Anthony nods. “You were deemed a
hero.”

“That’s very flattering,” she
says, swiping at her eyes like she’s about to start crying.

“Am I the only one aware of how
surreal this conversation is?” I ask.

“Well, we must get back on
topic,” Eliza says as she visibly composes herself. “As I said, I know it’s
hard to adjust, but you both died in that accident. I don’t believe in
pussyfooting around it. Directness is the best way to deal with these things,
and believe me I’ve had a lot of experience in the years I’ve been here. We
offer counselling sessions to help you come to terms with your grief.”

“So there are other people
here?” I ask.

“Oh yes,” she says. “I believe
you met Gerald earlier, he is one of our prefects. There are roughly five
hundred pupils here at the moment.”

“Dead people?”

“Yes, Riley, dead people. Just
like you and me.”

“You’re trying to tell me that
I’m a ghost? I can’t be a ghost. Ghosts don’t even exist.”

“Well, ghost is a very general
term,” she says. “And I assure you that they do exist.”

“But I can’t be dead. I can’t
be. I’m sixteen. I have a family who loves me, friends who love me, and girls
who want to
be
me. And I certainly can’t be back
at school. I’m in Year Eleven. I’m leaving school in a couple of months. I
cannot be dead.”

“I know it is hard to accept,
but you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t dead, Riley. Don’t worry, you’ll make
new friends here.”

“But I don’t want new friends. I
want my old friends. I want my family. I want my life back.”

“Don’t think of this as the end
of life, Riley. Think of it as a new beginning.”

“I don’t want a new beginning. I
want to go home.”

“You shouldn’t have got into a
car with that moron then, should you?” Anthony barks.

“Why don’t you shut up, you
stupid jerk? Don’t you even care that we’re in some kind of ridiculous
nightmare?”

“Of course I care,” he says.
“But this makes a lot of sense, so why don’t you shut up and listen?”

“Don’t tell me what to—”

Eliza bangs her hands on the
desk and it makes a huge crashing sound. We both stop and turn towards her.

“Please don’t argue, you two.
You are actually extremely fortunate to have come here together. Most people
are on their own when they come in. It will be nice for you both to have some
company.”

“I’d rather have my blood
drained by leeches,” Anthony says.

“Ew,” I mutter. “You are such a
freak. Who says stuff like that? Besides, it’s not like I want to be here with
you either, jerk.”

“Please stop fighting,” she
says. “We have a lot to get through before Induction.”

“Induction?” I ask worriedly. I
don’t like the sound of that. Not one little bit.

“Just a welcome to Afterlife
Academy,” she says. “To explain some of the rules. It will take place in the
cafeteria after you get settled in.”

“What if I don’t want to get
settled in? What if I just want to go home?”

“This is your home now, Riley.
You can’t go back to where you came from. You just have to keep moving
forward.”

“This can’t be my home,” I say.
“This is school. Where am I supposed to live? What about my parents?”

“This is a boarding school. You
will live here until you graduate.”

“Graduate? Oh great, because
we’re taking our GCSEs in like two months. Does that mean we can leave then?”

“Graduating from Afterlife
Academy is different than graduating from a living school,” Eliza says. “There
are no GCSEs here. There are no exams at all.”

“So how do we graduate?” Anthony
asks.

“You will graduate when I and
the other leaders deem you ready to graduate.”

“What other leaders?” he asks.

“The silent partners,” she says.
“Don’t worry, you won’t meet them, but they will watch you from afar.”

“So they’re like stalkers?” I
ask sarcastically.

“That’s not funny.” She turns to
stare at me. “The silent partners are very well-respected members of society
and their only interest in students is to ensure you are ready to leave here.”

“Great,” I say. “When will that
be?”

“There is no set time, Riley,”
she says. “It can be anything from a few months to a few years.”

“A few years? You expect me to
stay here for a few years?”

“I’m afraid you don’t have any
other choice. Everyone who dies while still of school age must come here. There
is also a primary school for younger students. Sometimes we go there to watch
their Christmas concerts.”

“Do you know how disturbed that
sounds?”

“I’m sure it must be a climate
change for you, but you’ll get used to it.”

“No, I won’t. I won’t ever get
used to this. This is insane and you can’t make me stay here.”

“There’s nowhere else for you to
go.”

“Riley, shut up,” Anthony says
sharply. “You’re not the most important person in the world. Let’s just listen
to what the lady has to say.”

Eliza Carbonell nods towards him
and smiles.

Great, I think. Suck-up jerk has
made a friend. Too bad he couldn’t do that in normal school.

“What do we do after we
graduate?” Anthony asks.

“It all depends on your level of
graduation,” Eliza says.

“Level of graduation?” I ask
dubiously.

“It’s like an exam result. It
determines the sort of jobs you will be suited for in the outside world.”

“Jobs?” I ask. “Outside world?
There’s an outside world here? Where? Is it like a ghost world?”

“There are many jobs here,”
Eliza says. “All the staff here for instance, we are all employed by the silent
partners. That’s just one example of the types of jobs you can do in our
world.”

“So I could graduate from school
to work in a school?” I ask. “What fun that sounds.”

She ignores me.

“Is everybody here dead?”
Anthony asks.

“Yes,” she says to Anthony. “It
is not possible to get into this world unless you’ve died.”

“What about home?” I ask. “What
about my family and friends?”

“You will grieve for them,” she
says. “That’s understandable and there’s a school counsellor available to you
at all times.”

“I’ll grieve for them? But
they’re still alive. They are still alive, right?”

“Yes.” Her voice softens. “But you
have lost them in the same way they have lost you. Grief is double-sided. But
it will get easier, I promise. Everyone misses their loved ones. I have been
here over sixty years and I still miss my family.”

“If you’ve been here for sixty
years, how come you still look the same way you did when you died?”

“There is no aging here. The
passage of time is different from what you’re used to. One plus is that you
don’t have to spend a fortune on all those fancy new anti-aging creams.”

If that was supposed to be a
joke it wasn’t funny.

“How do you even know about
anti-aging creams?” I ask. “I bet they didn’t even exist in the 1940s.”

“I might be dead but I still
like to keep up with the times. And of course I have a lot of contact with
modern teens. We also have the ability to visualise the living world.”